Half-Truths

The Counselor’s office was a place of order, precision, and chilling efficiency. Every detail—from the immaculate desk to the strategically placed holoscreens—spoke of control. But beneath this façade, chaos simmered, unseen yet omnipresent.

Maya and Jun sat across from the Counselor, their postures reflecting their emotions. Maya leaned back, one leg crossed over the other, her expression calm but watchful. Jun, by contrast, was rigid, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his jaw clenched.

The holoscreen flickered to life between them, illuminating the room with the familiar data streams and diagrams labeled The Sacrifice. The file glowed ominously, its implications casting a shadow over the conversation.

“You called us here to review this again?” Jun’s voice was sharp, laced with barely restrained anger.

The Counselor folded his hands neatly on the desk. “I called you here to remind you of the stakes. The rebellion hinges on Yuki, and we must prepare for what’s to come.”

Maya raised a brow, her tone calm but pointed. “We’re already aware of what’s at stake. Yuki’s modifications are the key to leveling the genetic divide. We’ve established that.”

The Counselor’s expression didn’t change. “Then let me clarify. Yuki’s modifications are the key, but the process to extract and distribute them will destroy him. There’s no way around it.”

Jun shot to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “So, he’s just going to die! Couldn’t we have planned this better?!”

The Counselor met his gaze without flinching. “It’s not a matter of planning, Jun. It’s a matter of necessity. Billions of lives depend on this. One life for countless others—it’s a simple equation.”

Jun’s hands slammed down onto the desk. “He—he doesn’t even know what we have planned for him.”

“He doesn’t need to know yet,” the Counselor replied, his tone icy. “Not until the time is right.”

“Unbelievable,” Jun muttered, his voice trembling with rage. He turned to Maya. “And you’re okay with this? You’re just going to let him walk into this blind?”

Maya tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “It’s not about what I want, Jun. It’s about what needs to be done. Yuki’s a part of this rebellion now, and I’m sure he knows the risks.”

“But he doesn’t know this,” Jun snapped. “You’re talking about sacrificing him like he’s some kind of pawn. He’s more than that.”

The Counselor’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Enough. This isn’t a debate. The decision has been made.”

Jun glared at him, his chest heaving. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t,” the Counselor said firmly. “We’ve explored every possibility. Yuki is the only one who can withstand the initial transfer process. Without him, the rebellion fails. Humanity loses its only chance at equality.”

Jun stared at him for a long moment before turning on his heel and storming out of the room. The door slid shut behind him with a hiss, leaving Maya and the Counselor alone.

“Well,” Maya said, standing and brushing imaginary dust from her jacket. “That went about as well as I expected.”

The Counselor leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the holoscreen. “Jun will come around. He always does.”

Maya didn’t respond, her mind already shifting to the next phase of their plan.

The training chamber was a stark contrast to the Counselor’s office. It was vast, cold, and industrial, its walls lined with an array of advanced equipment. Yuki stood in the center, his arms crossed as he watched Maya prepare for the session.

“This again?” Yuki asked, raising a brow.

Maya smirked as she adjusted her gloves. “Don’t sound so excited. You might hurt my feelings.”

“I thought we were past this,” Yuki muttered.

“We’re never past this,” Maya replied, stepping into position. “If you’re going to be part of this rebellion, we need to know exactly what you’re capable of. And I intend to find out.”

Before Yuki could respond, Maya raised her hand, and a surge of electricity crackled through the air. Bright arcs of lightning shot toward him, surrounding him in a blinding halo. The harsh sound of electricity filled the room, but when it faded, Yuki stood untouched.

Maya tilted her head, intrigued. “Interesting. Let’s try something else.”

She moved her hand again, and the ground beneath Yuki’s feet began to ripple like water. Sharp spikes of metal erupted from the floor, aiming directly at him. Yuki didn’t flinch as the spikes stopped inches from his skin, then crumbled into harmless dust.

Maya narrowed her eyes, muttering under her breath. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

“Thanks,” Yuki replied dryly.

Maya’s experiments grew more intense with each attempt. Flames roared toward Yuki, only to dissipate as they touched him. A wave of ice encased him in a thick shell, but it melted away within seconds. Even when Maya conjured an energy blade and struck directly at his chest, the weapon shattered on impact.

“You’re impossible,” Maya said, half in frustration and half in awe.

Yuki shrugged. “Tell me something I don’t know, sister.”

Maya stepped back, her expression unreadable as she prepared her final move. She raised both hands, and the air around Yuki seemed to warp and distort. The gravity in the room shifted violently, pressing down on him with immense force.

Yuki felt the weight bearing down on him, but it didn’t hurt. It was like standing under a waterfall—uncomfortable but manageable. He looked up at Maya, his brow furrowed. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes,” Maya said firmly. “If we’re going to win this war, we need to know your limits.”

“And if I don’t have any?” Yuki asked, his voice tinged with unease.

Maya didn’t answer. She lowered her hands, the gravity returning to normal.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension in the room palpable. Yuki finally broke the stillness, his voice quieter now. “What’s the point of all this, Maya? If none of your mods can hurt me, what are you trying to prove?”

Maya hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Yuki frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

Maya looked up at him, her smirk returning. “Patience, Yuki. You’re part of something bigger than yourself. You’ll understand when the time comes.”

As she left the room, Yuki stood alone, his mind racing with questions he couldn’t yet answer. He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening.

Hours later, when Yuki finally staggered back to his current housing area—Jun’s small apartment—exhausted and aching, his mind was consumed by more questions than ever. Every part of him felt different now, but he wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

What was this all leading to? He knew he had to transfer his mods to all of humanity, but he didn’t understand how. What was the real purpose behind these modifications, and why did he feel like the rebellion wasn’t telling him the full truth?

His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet voice inside the apartment.

“Yuki,” Jun’s voice came as he opened the door. “Welcome home."

Jun looked anxious.

He never looked that anxious, Yuki thought.